


Wrecking Ball

by writeskatelive



Category: Figure Skating - Fandom, Ksenia Stolbova and Fedor Klimov - Fandom
Genre: Breakup, F/M, Goodbye, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeskatelive/pseuds/writeskatelive
Summary: In two months, Ksenia Stolbova lost her Olympic dream, her reputation, and her coach. She's ready to walk away from everything she's ever known - except her partner of nine years.Basically an emo one-shot about how Stolbova/Klimov dissolved their partnership.





	Wrecking Ball

Ksenia hung up her jacket, tossed her bag in the locker, and started putting on her skates. Her ankle was still taped, and when she put her weight on the foot, her leg twitched with a sharp pain. It had felt like this every day since the accident in February, and it was now the end of April. But today would be different. Today she was going to start skating again.

She had come to New Jersey three weeks ago, alone. Nina Mikhailovna and Vladislav were too busy with Tarasova/Morozov and Zabiiako/Enbert to even notice she was gone. And Fedor…well, she hadn’t heard from him since that fight two months ago.

It still stood out in her mind so clearly: his brow drawn in frustration, one side of his mouth turned downward as he said, “I don’t know if I can go four more years with you.” She couldn’t remember what she had said, only that she had screamed terrible things at his back that could never be forgiven.

Sure, Nina Mikhailovna had hinted at the possibility of their retirement, but she was always speaking as if the apocalypse was scheduled to happen tomorrow, so Ksenia had never taken it seriously. Hearing it from Fedor’s serious, thoughtful lips made it suddenly painful and real, and just thinking about it made her shudder. For Ksenia, stopping was not an option. She was a Maserati with no brakes.

The past three weeks seemed to be crawling by. Jorge, the physical therapist, said her leg would heal if she could just be patient. Nikolai Morozov had no problem letting her use the ice here, although he seemed a little too excited that she had come without Fedor and a little too eager to help her when she showed up to practice in a backless top. Kaitlyn and Andrew always greeted her nicely in the morning, but lately they seemed distracted with their own problems. And every minute, Ksenia felt like her window of opportunity was closing inch by inch.  
She hobbled down to the ice, wincing at the pain in her ankle. Maybe she would just try a little today. Maybe she would just do a few crossovers and skate mostly on her good foot. It was better than nothing.

“Ksenia?”

Her heart startled in her chest, and she stumbled back. He was wearing a suit jacket with his jeans, as if he had started getting dressed for a wedding and changed his mind. This was typical of him. He had cut off that ridiculous man bun, and his dark hair was sticking up as if it had been freshly ruffled by the wind. His beard was a little thicker than usual – she had always preferred him clean-shaven.

His eyes, so soft and beautiful, flickered back and forth between surprise and fear.  
“Fedor,” she said, her voice coming out much higher than she’d expected. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed and glanced down at his shoes. “Nina Mikhailovna sent me. One of her pairs is getting choreography from Morozov. You see, the girl is very lovely, and you know Morozov’s reputation with ladies…” He blushed. “And I…I was worried about you.”

She realized she was staring at him and forced herself to focus on the sign behind him: NO HOCKEY STICKS OR PUCKS ALLOWED ON THE ICE DURING FIGURE SKATING PRACTICE. It was too easy to look at his sweet, handsome face and forget what she was trying to say. She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, it only took two months for you to remember you still care about me.”

“Ksenia…I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. I just didn’t know what to do, with the Olympics, and then the injury, and Nina Mikhailovna’s health.” He closed his eyes. “And I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything to do with me.”

She tried to keep her face expressionless. Part of her wanted to run to him and tell him she forgave him. But she didn’t move. If she forgave him, she could never leave. She had already spent two months arguing with herself about it, convincing herself it would be worth it. She couldn’t give in.

“Have you made a decision?” she said, her voice cold.

Fedor swallowed and blinked several times. She knew that expression – it was the way he looked when a reporter asked him a difficult question. He took a deep breath, unclasped his hands, and nodded. His face was nervous, but he met her eyes. “I have.”

She did not need to ask him what he had decided. She already knew. “Well…that’s nice.”

He sighed. “Ksenia, I’m sorry. I wish it could’ve been different – I should’ve told you sooner. I wish I could change everything that happened in the past three months. Or maybe everything in the past two years.”

“It’s not too late.”

“No, it is. I’m not like you, Ksenia. I see the hunger in your eyes when you step on the ice at a competition. You live to win, to chase the rival. But for me, it’s not like that. I could walk out of this rink, throw my skates in the trash, and live a perfectly happy life.”

“How can you say that? Don’t you feel anything when you skate a perfect performance and beat the best skaters in the world?”

“I feel like I’ve done my job well. But that’s all it is for me – a job. I’ve been skating since I was three years old. Eventually all the trophies and medals start looking the same.”

“Silver.” Ksenia laughed bitterly. “Dozens and dozens of silver medals, but never gold. Doesn’t that just drive you crazy?”  
“Sometimes. But I guess I’ve accepted it. We accomplished more than most pairs ever do.”

“And we could accomplish so much more. We haven’t done everything we’re capable of. This is our second chance, Fedor. Don’t blow it.”

He winced. “I can’t come back, you know that. I’ve been thinking about it for months, every day. Because some days, I don’t want to quit. Some days, I want to plan out this grand comeback for us and say we’ll win the Olympic gold medal in four years. But I can’t do that. It’s not reality.”

“But who determines what’s reality and what’s not? In 2013, we weren’t even on the World team. In 2014, we were Olympic silver medalists. You can’t predict this kind of thing.”

“Exactly.” He wrung his hands. “I just can’t spend the next four years of my life on a chance. I’m not young anymore.”

She frowned. “Savchenko was thirty-four before she won the Olympics.”

“I know, I know! I’ve tried to talk myself into it a thousand times. It would’ve been so much easier if we had just gone to the Olympics, gotten at least one medal, and retired. But that’s not what happened, and we can’t change it. It’s time to move on.”

Her throat was tight with anger and tears. When the Olympic committee had banned her from the Games in January, there had been only one thought in her mind: she had to go to the next Olympics. She had assumed that Fedor would feel the same way, that he had been robbed of his experience and needed redemption. She had never imagined he would be perfectly fine quitting without even trying to go back. But he had always been like that. His answer to a fight was to walk away calmly and avoid further conflict. She had never learned how to do that.

He ran his hand through his hair. “How did we get like this, Ksu? It feels like yesterday we were standing up there on that podium in Sochi, and now we can’t stand being on the ice anymore. What happened to us?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Your arm got ripped out of your shoulder, my leg swelled up to the size of Sasha Enbert’s, our coach’s heart almost stopped, the Olympics got turned into an invitation-only society gala, and Savchenko’s French guy actually turned out to be a pretty good skater.” She tried to say it lightly, but her voice cracked and her eyes started watering. “It’s been a lot.”

“No, I meant between us.” He sighed. “We used to have something really special here. What changed?”

She could feel the heat rushing into her cheeks, so she dropped to one knee and started fixing one of her bootlaces. Of all the uncomfortable things she and Fedor never talked about, it was that night in Barcelona two years ago when they were both giddy from winning the Grand Prix Final, she’d drank too much champagne, and she’d kissed him like she meant it. For two weeks, they had looked at each other like they never wanted to look away. But then the injuries came, and the other pairs started passing them, and it had been over before it even started.

“We grew up,” she said, her voice dry.

Fedor lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. Sometimes…it just feels like we had another life back then, one where we actually didn’t want to kill each other all the time. I miss that.” He blushed again. “So you’re continuing?”

“I have to. It’s just like you said – I live for the chase. I can’t walk away yet, not until I give it another chance. I’m not ready to stop.”

“I know that.” He took two steps towards her; he now stood barely three feet away. “And I just wanted to say I support you. I don’t quite understand what you’re doing or how you plan to do it, but I trust you.” He moved one step closer, closing the gap between them. “You were half of this great team.”

He was standing so close she couldn’t focus, so she looked down. “You were the other half.”

It was something she had never allowed herself to admit. Since they had first paired up, people had said, “What a brilliant, talented girl she is! She’s simply captivating, and he does a good job keeping up with her.” And slowly she had started believing that she really was the star, that she could win the Olympics no matter who was lifting or throwing her. She had taken Fedor for granted since the beginning.

“What’s going on here?” Nikolai Morozov was staring at them as if he had just seen a procession of zombies going to church. His leather jacket, white t-shirt, and tight jeans made him look like a middle-aged man trying to recapture the James Dean heartthrob days of his youth. His eyes fell on Fedor with a strange suspiciousness that was almost jealousy. “Fedor, I didn’t know you were coming this early.”

“Our plane landed early,” said Fedor. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later.”

Ksenia squirmed. Nikolai looked like he was wishing Fedor would never come back at all. She took a moment to steady herself and swallow the tremble in her voice before speaking. “Two minutes, Kolya. Why don’t you clean out the lockers for the new couple coming here?”

Nikolai blinked. She rarely gave him orders, not in his rink. His eyes darted from Fedor to Ksenia, then back to Fedor. “All right, I think I can arrange that.”

The moment he left, Fedor turned towards the door, his shoulders tense. “I should get going anyways. We’re not scheduled to be here until the afternoon.”

“Wait.” Ksenia grabbed his shoulder, her heart beating wildly. She felt like this could be the last time she ever saw him, and she was going to spend the next week wishing she had said more. Her limbs were shaking with the urge to say a hundred different things, but she couldn’t think of anything worth saying. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Just…for everything. This wasn’t what I planned.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Goodbye, Ksenia.”

That word made her shake. For nine years, they had worked as one team on the ice. To say goodbye felt like cutting her own body in half.

“Good luck,” she said.

As soon as she said the words, it felt like cutting something loose, the last string that tied her to Fedor. Her heart throbbed like a fresh wound, and she collapsed against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He pulled her close and held her head just under his chin, the way he used to when they had finished a program and she was hating herself for making a mistake. There would be no more moments like that now. The next time she would compete, she would be standing beside a new partner, and Fedor would be sitting with a new young pair as a coach, offering them the same support and encouragement he had always shown her.

She could feel him starting to pull away, but she lingered just a moment longer, trying to capture this scene in her mind. It was impossible to describe how his hugs felt like home and peace and safety all at once. This was how she wanted to remember him.  
  
Then it was over. He slipped out of her arms, and her body went cold again. He started walking towards the door, his steps slow but determined. She could feel him hesitating, but he did not turn around. Without a word, he slipped out the door into the street.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

And just like that, the partnership of Stolbova and Klimov was dissolved.

She turned back towards the ice. It looked so bright, wide, and empty, and it was both terrifying and exciting. Her heart felt frozen, hard, cruel. She wondered if she was slowly turning into an ice sculpture, losing a piece of her soul every day.

This was not her fault. He was the one who had left her. But somehow she felt like she was the one who had walked away from everything. She was the one who had spent the past two months hating him, as if he was the reason why she hadn’t gone to the Olympics, or why she had injured her leg. How many other things had she wrongfully blamed him for in the past nine years?

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to walk towards the ice instead of running after him. There was no persuading him to come back. He had made his choice, and she had to make hers.

Ksenia stepped onto the ice, gripping the boards. Her ankle throbbed as she pressed her weight down onto her right foot. Her leg started buckling underneath her, and she put her other foot down. She could do this. Taking a deep breath, she took a step forward on her injured leg. It tightened with pain, but she was moving forward. She kept one hand on the boards to steady herself, the way she did when she was five years old and afraid of falling.

One step at a time, she made her way around the rink. The longer she skated, her ankle started adjusting to the crushing weight and the pinching boot. She closed her eyes and turned the corner on one foot. It was painful, but not unbearable. She would get through this, no matter how hard it felt.

“Ksenia?” Nikolai called from the doorway. “That new guy is coming here in five minutes for his tryout, the one who flew in from France. What’s his name again?”

She drew to a sharp stop at the boards, kicking up shards of ice, and cleared the tears out of her throat. “Andrei. Andrei Novoselov.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry for another emo Ksenia and Fedor fic. I was listening to “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus and the lyrics “Don’t you ever say I just walked away/I will always want you” reminded me of their split.  
By the way, please support Ksenia and her new partner Andrei in their skating career! I wish them all the best.


End file.
